


The Wheels Keep Turning

by Ruunkur



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dear fucking lord don't like don't read, In no way is the Felix/Sylvain a healthy relationship in this game, Modern AU, Suicide, Walking in on a suicide gone right, dead bodies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:34:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24458293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruunkur/pseuds/Ruunkur
Summary: They were like flames, burning brighter and destroying each other.Only one burned a little too brightly for the other.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	The Wheels Keep Turning

**Author's Note:**

> Brain: Hey, let's go kill ourselves.  
> Me: How about we kill off some character instead  
> Brain: I guess that's a compromise? Whatever, it works

He curled his hands into fists, turning to look at the mess of a room.

The anger lingered in the air, each word a thorn in his skin. Each word littered along the floor, drifting and seething, a monster in its own right.

He twisted, swinging his fist into the door. The flimsy plywood cracked, bending inwards before it broke, the hole mocking him.

He drew in a breath, rolling his shoulders back. It wouldn't do to let the anger bleed out from there, but the words chased him, circling him, preying on him. They repeated over and over, the taste of alcohol on his lips.

With a twitch of his hand, the door was shut and he was locked in his bedroom, the room as pristine as it always was, nothing out of place.

Nothing to show the storm that raged underneath his skin. With an angry grin to himself, he sat on his bed, toying with the object that had been tossed there without a thought earlier before.

It was heavy in his hands, cool despite having been nestled in the sheets. The metal gleamed and he tilted it, studying the pattern.

Years before, he had been interested in other things. Weapons that burned in his hands, dragged him down. People that were like lights, floating through his life even as they stood for nothing.

People that made promises and couldn't keep them. People that told him he was worth something and yet would leave without ever providing the comfort they offered.

Nothing but broken words and broken promises.

He shifted the object in his hand, finger sliding across the smooth metal. His finger fell easily against the trigger and he lifted it up, placing the barrel against the side of his head.

This far away from anyone, they wouldn't hear and no one would know.

***

"Ingrid, have you heard from Sylvain?"

Felix dispensed with the pleasantries, balancing his phone on his shoulder while he typed at his computer. The early morning light filtered in through his windows, birds chirping outside.

"Good morning, Felix. Why yes, we are having a lovely weekend with the weather. I'm doing well and I'm so glad to hear you have been, too! Why, Sylvain? I haven't heard from him in a couple of weeks. You would know more than I would."

Felix rolled his eyes as Ingrid spoke, shifting in his seat. "I haven't heard from him in a while either, you know."

"Are you two fighting again?" The despair in Ingrid's voice was something he was familiar with, something that was always there whenever her two oldest friends were fighting, again. "If you fight this much, I don't understand why you keep going back to each other. Or are you that much of a masochist?"

Felix snorted. "Whatever. I'm going to stop by his house and make sure the idiot hasn't killed himself or something."

"Want company?"

"No."

"Then why did you call me?"

Felix shifted in his chair, slouching forward and resting his forearms on the desk. "I don't know."

"You're worried."

Felix let the silence answer for him, getting up from his chair. "I'll call you when I find whatever gutter he's dragged himself into."

"What was the latest fight about?"

Felix shrugged. "You know, I don't even remember. It was something stupid."

"Uh huh. Well, if you need help once you find him, you can call me."

"Right, talk to you later, Ingrid." He ended the call, fiddling with his phone. His finger hovered over Sylvain's name before he shoved it back into his pocket. It didn't matter if he called or not, Sylvain probably wouldn't answer.

***

Felix stood before Sylvain's door, the drive over having been both too slow and too fast. He lifted his fist to the door, knocking. Silence answered him and Felix snorted.

They really had been fighting over something stupid. He didn't care if Sylvain was a shameless flirt. They weren't dating anymore. It shouldn't matter to Felix. He shouldn’t have said the same things Miklan said to Sylvain.

But, his best defense had always been to hurt Sylvain before Sylvain hurt him.

"Fucking shit, I know you're in there, Sylvain!" Felix shouted, glancing at the driveway. Sylvain's car was there, where he had expected it.

He shifted through the keys on his ring, finding the one that Sylvain had given to him, after a drunken night and whispered promises. He had told Felix to come by at any point, whenever he wanted. Whether Sylvain was there or not, he would be happy to come home and see Felix waiting, either on the couch or, on the worst nights, in Sylvain's bed and so drunk he couldn't have known what he was doing.

Felix opened the door, wrinkling his nose as the putrid smell hit him. "If you let yourself go to shit, Sylvain, I'm going to kill you!"

The words were snapped without thought. Wasn't that the problem in the end? Felix and Sylvain, a dance that was more knives than happiness. A relationship that was dragged through the serrated edge of whatever object either of them had at the moment.

A boiling pot ready to explode.

Felix stepped through the mess that was Sylvain's living room, his gaze darting around the apartment. Worry finally drifted through his brain and he stopped. Even when they had their worst fights, when both of them had cheated and thrown it in the other's face, Sylvain's home had been perfect.

Now, Felix could see the hole in the door, and he pulled out his phone, dialing emergency services. He held it up to his ear, moving to turn the knob on Sylvain's bedroom.

"What's your emergency?"

"I would like to report a-"

Felix swung the bedroom door open, staring at the mess as he stepped in. Dried blood was splattered against the wall, Sylvain slumped against it. The gun was still cradled in his hand, though his fingers were limp. His body was stiff and Felix took in a breath, realizing that the operator was still talking, asking him questions.

"I uh..." Felix took a step back, hitting the wall and curling his free hand into a fist. "There's been... a suicide?"

It was a question, as if the operator could see what he was seeing, tell him that it was not a suicide. That his friend, despite everything that had ever happened between them, was not slumped over, dried blood ruining the walls.

The garish bright orange walls Sylvain had insisted on when he was twelve and Felix had helped him paint. The walls that were now splattered in the dried brown substance, telling Felix exactly what he had been smelling when he first walked into the room.

The voice on the phone was distant and all Felix could do was stare.

The last fight, their words drifting up to Felix. Felix telling Sylvain that no one would even care if he died, it wouldn't matter. He was a shitstain on society, the worst kind of asshole that would exist, that Miklan had been right from the start.

He wasn't even sure when the police arrived, only that now he was sitting on the steps of Sylvain's family home, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, his eyes locked onto the tree that Sylvain had so proudly loved to climb until Miklan pushed him out, breaking an arm.

He wasn't sure when Ingrid sat down next to him, when he had called her, but he had. His phone read that he had called her thirteen times before she answered. They only sat there, looking at that damned tree while the police finished up, a cleaning crew coming in.

The image of Sylvain, hair dried with blood, face pulled into something Felix couldn't describe, would be there to haunt him for the rest of his days.


End file.
